On Mutual Longing

This is my translation of a poem by the Song Dynasty poet Lin Bu. I don't know much about him. Supposedly he lived the life of a recluse and turned down successive requests to attend upon his Majesty the Emperor. According to one source, although he lived as a solitary hermit, Lin considered himself betrothed to his plum trees and together with them is said to have sired a child who was a snow white crane. I can't swear to the biographical accuracy of this story, but in any case I consider this to be an incredibly beautiful poem.


On Mutual Longing

The Wu Mountains
Are clothed in green
So too are the Yue

On both sides
The green hills
Regard each other
In uneasy greeting

As if such like beings could somehow
Overcome the distance and feelings
Holding them apart

The gentleman weeps
Without restraint
So too does the lady

The same feelings
Swaddle their separate hearts
While remaining unfulfilled

The river of tears
Rises to equal level
Atop the distant banks

Ode to THC

What’s been said
About youth
Is equally true
About drugs
Being wasted
On the young

Take it from me
My son
You really need
A little seasoning
To fully appreciate
The improved reasoning
That comes with THC

And to be able
To speak truth
To weakness and power alike
And never by flattery
To be seeking advancement

Always haphazardly
Proceeding through life
Though it’s not quite a random thing
The way I take a hit or two
While walking around the block

As Yet Without a Title (for Marissa)

A rainy day
On my way home
Down West 28th
I stopped to consider
The water accumulating
In the detritus clogged drain
Above the uptown stop of the IRT train

You know the whole damn block
Is so lush and green
With palm fronds and rare orchids
Like a rain forest it casts off petals
By the bushel per hour
Being by far the most tropical part
Of the Midtown South Precinct

Then there comes a shift
In the spectrum of light
To yellow from green
With the rain-streaked taxis
Parked along both sides thanks
To the Ramadan crowds
In the Mosque
North one street

These and other things
I've noticed on my rounds
To and from the studio
Ambling for enlightenment
Every neighborhood provides a motive
For a longer sojourn
But here in particular
I'm held enthralled

Home being where a man
Dares and feels the need
To show both his most masculine
And feminine sides
This petal strewn block
Is the very place where
I've had full recourse
To expose both of mine

Humbert's Peak

In the angular light

Of a late July afternoon

I reached Hubbert’s peak

Sexually speaking enjoying

Pleasure so great with you

It felt beyond compare

Or should I say Humbert’s

Because there you appeared

In your red Target suit

Dark sunglasses and all

Looking both Lolita and her mum

And then we went

From two to one

Like a sea nymph

Urging me forward

Until we grew nethered

In the deep end together

While nearby the blue wheelbarrow

Stood upended in the dirt

Its arms for legs splayed

Invitingly

Saying to me

So much depends

On the here and the now of it

Wherever you happen

To transplant yourself

Make sure this time

It really counts

That it was shared with you

I find unsurprising

Nor am I perturbed but delighted

By the promise of all the lesser peaks

Between us yet to come

Never Once My Dear Friend, Not Once

Something I have a hard time
Understanding about you
My dear friend
Even after all those years
Not once did you ever pen
A word of complaint

I mean there is nothing more deadening
In the whole fucking world than
Insurance law yet there you were
Ensconced as a corporate VP
In charge of legal affairs
For the Hartford
And never did
You manage a peep

Discounting all the fancy rhetoric
About the emptiness of the snowman and so on
Which you may have intended
As a coded lament about how
Your work life was utterly boring

But for that reason I content myself
At having been the more direct
If less artful poet
Having found similar means
To support myself I nonetheless
Don’t trend so much to abstraction
Or self satisfaction that scribbling
A line or two will ever amount
To a whole hell of a lot more

The Naming Ceremony

We sons of Marv
We partied hard
And learned to live
With immoderate risk
Whether we or the dice
Became more fully loaded
There’s room for continuing debate

But when the time finally came
For me to choose my own name
I chose Blue Flower Poet
With aspirations so clear
It still remains to be seen
Just how well
It may be said
I lived up to it

Poem for My Father

For all those reasons too
I have scribbled in obscurity
Through each day
The alembic drips

Whether defying received wisdom
Or spurning proffered sympathy
Yet still longing in private
For some crumb more
Than self-respect

Towards the Finland Station
You made your way
Constantly crisscrossing
The tracks proceeding
At your own good pace
So restless means seldom bored

Through it all
You composed a song
For a Jazz Combo
Where urban sets the beat
Balanced by a country air
As with strings of longing
Drawn forward
And from student days
Hear the flute's
Lyrical call
While a guitar provides
The loin's true heat

Even to those who
Consider themselves
Of animal or plant parenthood
I say the heart must stay strong
However divided
As two pieces of obsidian
Broken from the self same stone

And so I am
My Father's Son
I swear it
On this very ground
Where he lies today
I leave one half
While the other
I take away